We Can't Fall Any Further
by runicmagitek
Summary: After all they have been through, Celes hopes it's not too late to tell him how she truly feels. Mid-canon Celes/Setzer


_for triceratopper on tumblr for the kiss prompt: because they're running out of time_

* * *

She hated him.

The frilly garb, the cigarettes, the penchant for sin, the utter disregard for any semblance of order... all of it. Every last damn playing card and jewelry was but another pluck at her worn nerves. It started with a letter and ended with a grin in the face of defeat. Celes desired nothing from him; to associate with an impulsive, unsavory rogue would result in misery. Her title as general might have vanished, but her sense of morality and duty refused to die.

A shady wager and a gambler's word sealed his loyalty to the Returners. Nothing more. Despite what promises he wove on that silver tongue, Celes tensed and held her breath. He would betray them, no doubt. What was the point in trusting a fickle man more accustomed to doing as he pleased than committing to a proper cause? The shift of the wind was all it took to pique his interest and sweep him elsewhere.

But they needed wings, even from someone a repulsive as Setzer Gabbiani, and Celes reluctantly offered herself as bait. The incentive was just, or so she reasoned amidst her clouded thoughts. It was a simple trick and it worked. All that mattered was reaching Vector unnoticed. He could fly away after they touched down. He could do anything he damned well pleased without allying himself with a revolutionary group.

And he chose to stay.

That notion haunted her even when the world collapsed into ruin and nothing but the ocean greeted her each morning. She remembered the massive shadow drifting over Thamasa and swore it was a figment of her imagination. He smiled to her upon boarding the Blackjack when everyone else cast a wary gaze in her direction.

" _Welcome back, Celes,_ " was what he said then.

She restrained the urge to smack him. She didn't have time for his games, not when a more dire threat loomed quite literally above them. Instead, Celes turned away and erased the encounter from her memory.

She tried to, at least.

The sun rose and fell from the beach more times than she bothered to count. Even the cold breeze did little to comfort her trembling body. In her solitude, nothing but her thoughts kept Celes company—a blessing and a curse alike. She replayed events no different from strategizing over war tactics, searching for more fruitful outcomes than what befell the world. Each one contained him, the man who swore to be by her side over a stupid coin toss.

Tears spilled down her filthy face. Had she always been blind to the truth? Celes regarded him no different than a caged bird stared in awe of its own ilk flying in the sky. How wonderful it was to wander wherever the heart desired, to write one's own destiny without a care in the world, consequences be damned. To be deprived of such a simple luxury was no life at all.

If only she knew what life existed outside of her cage. Perhaps she would have smiled back to him when no one else did. Perhaps he would have enlightened her in what it meant to be free, even for but a moment. Perhaps, yes... but no magic existed to undo the damage.

The world was dead and Celes hated herself more than anyone else ever could.

But maybe fate did exist. Maybe it was what kept her alive despite her suicidal efforts. The battlefield hardened Celes and demanded her to rise when bruises and blood enveloped her. She survived—she _lived_ —and thus she hadn't lost yet. Death could claim her along the way, but until then, she needed to continue the fight. Who else would, if not her?

Throughout the warp landscapes and dilapidated towns, she discovered familiar faces now rekindled with inspiration. Allies she exchanged idle chats with swept her into their arms and laughed until they cried over the revelation—they were alive. Each lost soul shined hope in Celes' heart. This was her life's purpose now. This was what she and no one else had to do.

That light snuffed out when she found him.

Why did she hesitate? Why did her thoughts bleed together and her words lodged into her throat? What once seethed in her blood no longer even simmered. Every imagined instance she procured, each one with her striking him down and bellowing in his face until hell froze over, lifted like a dense fog banished by sunrise. What remained was a man she both recognized and didn't.

She swore she gazed upon her own reflection more so than Setzer.

He slumped over a wooden table sodden from scotch, vomit, and tears. Pale fingertips teased the rim of an empty glass. Messy, silver locks veiled his face. Celes yearned to find that cocky smirk of his beneath it all; nothing but jaded despair lined his features when she dared to face him.

"Setzer?" she whispered.

Despite the rowdy atmosphere and shoddy acoustics, he still flicked his gaze upwards. Those violet eyes widened. A forgotten fire sparked to life in that stare.

"Celes?"

She almost forgot the sound of his voice—a rich, dramatic, yet refined timbre which vibrated down to her toes. It lacked, however, the bravado which wafted about Setzer. At one point, she longed to steal that charm away from him. Anything to knock him from his self-imposed pedestal and ground him for once in his life.

The sentiment never surfaced within Celes. Not when she discovered a once carefree bird deprived of his wings.

People changed. For better or for worse. Scars never healed, but when had that ever stopped Setzer? Celes reminded him as much, for he once loathed the ground enough to fashion himself wings and pave a new life amidst the clouds.

"Do you want to keep living in this world like this?" she asked him. "No? Then do something about it. Find a new dream to chase down."

That signature smirk cracked past his dreary visage. "You'd chase after it with me? My new dream?"

She said yes, because she and the others required his assistance. She said yes, simply to motivate his drunken ass out of the tavern. She said yes, for Celes was acquainted far too well with mending broken hopes. She said yes, quietly wishing that maybe she'd find a dream for herself to follow.

At least she convinced herself of such.

Past the ruined tomb and the unspoken recollections, they found more than a new pair of wings to grace the heavens with. Setzer lingered along the hatch to the Falcon, fingertips ghosting dusty metal and wood. His eyes searched for ghosts of a time once treasured. The others marveled at the exemplary engineering and Celes withheld tears. She longed to approach him, to settle a tender hand on his tense shoulders, and speak her truth-that she understood all too well what screamed in the silence between them.

Celes never did. Not then, not ever. Time spent as a rigid military officer molded Celes; logic cracked a whip amidst her thoughts with the reminder that now wasn't the time to reminisce of what was lost and no more. There was maniacal sadist prancing about as a god and only they could stop him. Any other sentiment could wait.

But even ice cracked. With each word swallowed, her nerves tugged taut until she held together by threadbare sentiments. And every time, he was there. Not a smile humored his face, nor did his violet eyes dissect her for answers.

"Are you alright?" was all Setzer ever asked of her in those quiet lulls when no one watched but him.

She snapped her arms to her side, refusing to smooth out the unwelcome tingle plaguing her body. "I'm fine," she offered back.

Setzer paused, then yielded with a nod. Nothing more. Oh, she wished he prodded for more.

Laughter graced her feeble lips. What was wrong with her? When had she become fixated with ideals better suited for a bratty socialite? Setzer's previous flirtations earned him an icy glare at best during their brief time together when balance was in order. Now? Now she silently yearned for those days when her greatest annoyance was a charismatic man wishing to adorn her with sweet nothings.

Maybe he folded in his own game. Maybe there was no thrill in teasing her anymore. Maybe his new dream had nothing to do with Celes.

It didn't stop her from lingering in his presence. She shared the same couch with him in the Falcon's humble foyer during late night conversations in an attempt to keep the group morale from plummeting. She accompanied him in supply runs to the few towns still offering wares. She stayed behind while the others braved monsters in search for friends, simply to share the same air with him while he performed maintenance.

Setzer hummed in those moments, agile hands testing every meter and valve aboard the Falcon. He stripped from his dense jacket and fastened his hair into a low bun. Sometimes he broke the silence with a tale or two in regards to Darill's initial construction of the Falcon or how he recalled acquiring a particular scar over amateur engineering attempts. Celes drank it all in, leaning against a wall with a hint of a smile warming upon her features.

He never asked for anything in return—merely thanked her for the company and resumed his pilot duties once the group returned. It was refreshing, in a way, to listen to another's inner workings without expecting a similar story spun in exchange. She felt like a child, impatient for the night to come so Cid could read another fairy tale from the library. Except none of it was a fantasy; it was Setzer's life. How remarkable to regard his memories as no different, if not better, than the tales she relished growing up.

And how she longed to be a part of his story. What would he tell future bar patrons and poker rivals of the stoic Magitek knight and General Celes Chere? Would they laugh? Roll their eyes, even?

Perhaps she needed to give him a story worth telling.

She entertained that notion more than she wished to admit. When they ascended the spiral staircase from the depths of the engine hull, Celes slowed her steps. Setzer followed, matching her pace without question. She longed to face him, grip the lapels of his stupid, fancy jacket, and jerk him into her until they suffocated to death. Just once. Just to say she had and be done with it. Wasn't that what the underling soldiers always bragged about? Something about getting it out of their pants and out of their systems in order to halfway function again?

Celes was the first to charge into battle, leading the way for her allies, and yet the courage she wore like armor dissipated before Setzer. _We have grander matters to focus on,_ she perpetually scolded herself, _none of which include each other._

That reminder loomed in the back of her mind, even when their efforts shifted from replenishing their roster to heading for the elusive tower to confront a god himself. The others took care to celebrate in whatever fashion they deemed necessary before their final fight. Feasts and dances clouded their minds of what was to come. Celes made an appearance for their sakes than her own. Wasting away in temporary delights did little to ease her anxious heart. She gripped her wine glass no difference from her rune blade and not a drop of crimson liquid touched her lips.

Vanishing without a word, Celes retreated to the Falcon. Perhaps the couch was free to sleep on or the upper deck was empty for refining sword techniques until the morning rose. She didn't expect to find Setzer reclining in a chair, clutching both a cigarette and glass of scotch in a single hand.

"Drinking alone?" Celes asked.

He lolled his head towards her. Maybe he would have ignored her if she never spoke. "It does appear to be that way," Setzer drew out, his accent more pronounced with alcohol coating his tongue, "doesn't it?"

Neither of them smiled at the dry humor. Celes froze and Setzer drank.

"I swore you were with the others," she said.

Smoke flowed from his nostrils as he raised an eyebrow. "Only long enough to say I was there. That's all."

"I would have taken you to be the type who would be milking every last minute of tonight."

"Did you, now?"

Setzer purred those words and Celes ignored the heat bundling in her abdomen.

"Care to join me, Celes?"

There it was—the opening she sought for. All there was left to do was approach him, pry his poisons of choice out of his clutches, crawl into his lap, and bask in one another. He didn't need to pass the night alone—neither of them did. Perhaps it was anything but romantic, but did that ever matter? What would romance possibly offer her when she desired to forget every qualm, every provocation, and every failure? So long as that tongue of his didn't disappoint her—especially with how he licked his lips after another swig—then everything else was a lavish treat as far as Celes was concerned.

And yet she scoffed and shook her head. "I need some fresh air," she reasoned with herself more than Setzer.

He was drunk. He was teasing her. He was an irredeemable gambler and businessman. He was the bane of her existence. He was in over his head and beyond and so was she. What would ever come from a fleeting moment together before their last battle? What would it solve amidst all the plights in the world? Who was she to prey upon him in hopes to forget herself for but a night?

No different from any other time, Setzer nodded and spoke, "But of course. I know better than to deprive a diligent lady of her solitude." He lifted his glass, as if toasting to her. "Enjoy the evening, Celes."

She found no reprieve in the night's chill on the upper deck. She paced it from starboard to port until her labored breaths strained from physical activity than dread. This wasn't a trashy opera where star-crossed lovers shared a night of intimacy in their final hour together; this was reality. And the reality of the matter was that anyone could die come morning. Celes refused to shoulder their last moments together knowing either of them could be swept away by death.

 _You deserve to remember me in a better light,_ she thought when the sun broke across the horizon and the Falcon neared Kefka's Tower. _Not as some lovesick floozy._

The first group descended to their assigned point, shouting wishes of good luck to their peers. Celes clutched the railing as the Falcon positioned to the opposite end of the tower. She donned her finest leathers and chainmail, yet none of it prepared her for the atrocities that awaited to unfold.

Sabin touched down on the platform first, beckoning to the rest of the group. Cyan and Edgar followed suit while Celes trailed behind. Whatever strategies she and the others concocted that morning blurred. She paused at the hatch and stared at the bleeding skies suffusing the world.

"Best of luck."

She whipped her head around to find Setzer positioned by the railing. Someone had to close up the hatch, after all. The Falcon hovered idly as her pilot focused on Celes.

"Not that you need it," he mused with a chuckle, "but someone has to look out for those troublemakers."

A thousand words exploded in her mind, only to die off as quickly as they sparked to life.

Celes nodded. "Good luck, Setzer," was all she said.

Returning her attention to the hatch, she gingerly descended the trembling rungs. Her feet froze halfway. The others coerced her with shouts; they didn't have time to burn.

Blue eyes flicked back to the horizon. The realization struck her like a sledgehammer to her gut—the what ifs and the regrets and the missed chances. Every last sentiment spun around to reveal another perspective.

How could she die without ever trying?

Celes pivoted and lifted her chin. Setzer stood at the top, eyes locked with her own. The wind tore between them, dancing within Setzer's silvery locks and teasing the loose strands from Celes' tight, braided bun. Her breath rattled in her lungs, her eyes blinked back tears, and her lips quivered open.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Setzer blinked and cocked his head. "Celes?"

"For closing you out," she continued, gradually climbing back up, "for doubting your intentions, for never trusting you until now... I'm sorry. For all of it."

She balance on the top step, inches away from him. The idle engine groaned, the wind howled, the others below yelled, and none of it mattered. Only those violet eyes fixed on her. He donned no cocky smirk or curious eyebrows; Setzer's mask shattered, leaving a raw expression mixed with childish shock and timid admiration.

"You," he replied, his voice barely above a deep whisper, "of all people, have _nothing_ to apologize for."

Celes shook her head. "I should have said something... _done_ something. Not now, but then."

"Well... the show must go on, no?"

"If one of us dies—"

"Don't speak like that—"

She gripped his collar, jerked him down, and crushed her lips against his.

A light, muffled whimper lined Setzer's lips. He melted into her and so did she. They embraced each other, clawing through hair and clothing alike. Notes of cinnamon and cloves from his last cigarette imbued each kiss. Celes longed to drown herself in him, parting her wanton lips to greet his tongue in kind.

They broke the kiss slowly, gently. She peeked through heavy eyelids to find Setzer's expression mirroring her own. An insatiable moan vibrated through him as he nuzzled into her.

"Well, now," he purred, his voice alone burning lewd ideas into Celes, "and what did I do to deserve this pleasure?"

She shook her head, bumping noses with him. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

A smirk teased his lips. "I'll be sure to continue to do so—"

"Celes!" one of the twins—she didn't bother to discern which one—called out. "Come on! We need to go!"

Hitching her breath and licking her lips, she loosened her grip on Setzer. "Don't die on me, Setzer."

"I suppose I should cross that off on today's agenda, hmm?"

"I mean it."

"As do I. Having something to live for at the end of the day?" A grin cracked across his face. "I could get used to that."

Celes smiled back. "Don't get _too_ used to it."

"No, never. Why ruin the fun?"

They reluctantly untangled themselves for one another, though before Celes turned away, his lips skimmed her earlobe and his voice dropped to a whisper.

"Wait for me?"

Celes froze and closed her eyes.

"When this is all over," Setzer continued, "please... wait for me, _ma cherie_."

Tears rolled down her fair cheeks. She nodded into him.

With a final squeeze, Setzer released her. Celes climbed down the hatch, her eyes locked on him the entire descent.

She ignored her group, the burn in her eyes, and the monsters roaring in the distance. Standing at the edge of the platform, she watched as Setzer closed the hatch, paused, and bowed to her before returning to the helm. The Falcon rumbled to life to drift off. Only when the airship disappeared beneath the twisted structure of Kefka's Tower did Celes release her breath.

"You were always worth the wait," she murmured before turning to join her group.


End file.
